Page 54 of Last First Date

I flipped on the TV and pulled up the menu. We settled on an old movie and stretched out. I had to admit, this was better than sitting alone and working. We ate our sub sandwiches, sipped our mimosas, and watched Avatar, making lots of comments. It was fun. It was one of the best trips I could remember.

Alexa stepped into the cabin. “We’ll be landing soon.”

“Back to our seats and seatbelts,” I said.

“Oh no,” Waverly groaned. “I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”

“I’ve got you,” I said. We settled into our seats, and I once again took her hand.

She glanced at our intertwined fingers. “Thank you, but you don’t have to hold my hand.”

“If it helps, I don’t mind,” I responded, shrugging nonchalantly. In fact, I liked holding her hand. I liked the physical connection. I knew I shouldn’t, but I did. There was something comforting about a legit human connection. I realized I didn’t have one of those. I had a lot of friends in New York, but they were guys I went out and got drunk with. I didn’t have a girlfriend. My mom and I were close at arm’s length. This was a very grounding experience.

“I didn’t peg you for a gentleman, Knox,” she said, leaning back in her seat as the plane started its descent.

“Don’t let it get around. It could ruin my reputation,” I joked, squeezing her hand lightly. Her laughter echoed through the cabin again.

The plane started the descent. I didn’t miss the fact Waverly’s other hand was gripping the armrest hard enough to make her knuckles turn white. As the airplane tilted, her tension amped up. Her anxiety was even more palpable now. Her eyes were wide as she held on tight. She didn’t let go of my hand and I certainly wasn’t going to.

“Hey, look at me,” I said gently, bringing her focus back to me. Her eyes met mine. “It’s okay, Waverly.”

Her gaze lingered for a moment before she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her hand relaxed slightly around mine as she nodded.

“I should be braver with all of this by now,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Bravery is overrated,” I answered softly, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

She opened her eyes again, meeting my gaze. There was fear in them, yes, but also determination. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. She took another deep breath and relaxed back into her seat.

The plane continued its descent, the ground below growing closer with each passing minute. Waverly didn’t look out the window again. Instead, she kept her focus on me, our hands entwined tightly for the remainder of the journey.

As the wheels of the plane finally met the runway, a sigh of relief escaped her chest. “We made it,” she said, a tentative smile playing on her lips.

“We sure did,” I said, smiling back at her, giving her hand one final squeeze before releasing it so we could gather our belongings.

The moment the cold air hit my face, it felt like I had stepped back into my world. The hustle and bustle of New York City surrounded us. I took a moment to inhale the smells of the city I loved. I couldn’t stop smiling as we made our way toward the waiting car.

“What’s got you all excited?” she teased.

“I like being in the city.”

“I like this side of you. It feels real. And your real smile? Way better than that model smile.”

We made our way to a town car waiting for us, a courtesy arranged by the lingerie company that enlisted our services. The familiar skyline welcomed me home. We drove by the sprawling beauty of Central Park with joggers braving the cold. I found myself at ease, a sensation that had been sorely absent since my relocation to Utah. The honking horns and dirty snow piled up alongside the road were all part of the package.

The car pulled up to the entrance of a luxurious hotel where we’d be residing for the duration of our New York venture. The lingerie company was providing the accommodations. They had spared no expense in ensuring our comfort. We stepped out of the car with a bellhop waiting to take our bags. I reveled in the familiar energy that coursed through the air.

Waverly and I entered the opulent lobby, greeted by the elegance I was used to. The concierge handled our check-in efficiently, and soon, we were directed to our rooms. The excitement of being back home made me feel giddy.

Waverly’s room was next to mine. “We’ll get dinner at six if that works for you,” I said.

“You don’t have plans?” she asked.

“No, why?”

“You’ve been dying to get home,” she said, shrugging. “I assumed you would have plans with friends.”

“Nope.” I shook my head. “Dinner at six?”